like pixie dust
by little miss jolie
Summary: The many things Luke regrets and the one thing he doesn't. Because in the end, it's all about redemption and moving on. {one-sided lukeabeth, percabeth, and young!annabeth}


**ii.**

When he first sees her, she's fainter than a ghost. She's just a prettyprettypretty delicate little thing, like a little fairy. So faint, that he almost mistakes her for a figment of his imagination.

Like a wispy little wraith, she dances down the streets in the middle of the New York rain. She's clad in nothing but the same old ratty flannel pajamas. Oddly enough, clutched in her hand was a dagger.

Well, his dagger, really. He had gifted it to her- and rightfully so. It was a far better weapon than her hammer.

Luke leans against the cold, brick wall and pulls his hoodie tighter around himself. When she had flung herself out of the trash can at them, beautiful gray eyes wild with fear and frenzied anger, her blonde hair matted. He still had found her the cutest thing ever.

Thalia shifts next to him. She's still clad in her black leather- at least it seems to be keeping her warm in the frigid temperatures. She ducks her head, tucking her chin under the high collar of her leather jacket. Her startling, electrifying blue eyes scan the area for any potential threats. Luke can't see it, as her arms are crossed, but he knows she's rubbing Aegis in apprehension.

Her dark fringe falls over her eyes. Like Luke, she was quick to take to Annabeth; it was hard to not love the little spunk in that girl. She jerks her chin in Annabeth's direction, who stands in the center of the deserted street of the Queens. "Shouldn't we stop her before she gets a cold?"

Luke's eyes scans her tiny, scrawny figure dwarfed by the grandeur of the structures and buildings around them. He shrugs. "She seems to be having fun. Let her be."

 **ii.**

Thalia's loss affects them all. Perhaps Annabeth the worst and the most.

Luke is already well acquainted with the feeling of loss. He had quickly lost his mother when he was very young. Granted, she wasn't _really_ lost. But given her mental state, she might've as well not have been there.

His father wasn't ever there, anyway. So he would've have known. But his absence still hurt, and he could still feel that empty, cold hole in his heart.

But Thalia is the greatest feeling of anguish and lost he'd ever known. It was more than his delusional and mentally-ill mother, more than his absentee-father, more than whatever pain the bullies at school had inflicted upon him.

Because Thalia _is_ (he simply refuses to refer to her in past tense, because she will _never be forgotten_ ) his friend; his ally; his comrade. (Maybe even a little more, if he was being honest with himself.)

So when Annabeth wakes up screaming in the Athena cabin, thin frame shaking from fear and tears streaming down her cheeks, Luke is there by her side instantly. And he hugs her and pets her head until she falls back asleep, and he vows to himself that _he will never hurt her, because family doesn't hurt family._

 **iii.**

It's around Annabeth's tenth birthday Luke finally notices how much Annabeth has grown.

He's doing quite well himself. He's finally settled in well with his siblings in the Hermes cabin, and he's risen quite far in the ranks of their society. He finds himself one of the best swordsman, and ends up teaching the other campers. Soon, Luke is regaled as one of the most respected seniors of Camp Half-Blood.

So as he is returning from sword practice, hot, sweaty, and his sword casually resting on his shoulders, Annabeth runs up to him. She's all bright-eyed and breathless, her blonde hair pulled up in a messy ponytail. She's sporting the orange Camp shirt and jeans. She's waving her dagger around excitedly.

"Luke! Luke! LukelukeylukelukelukelukeLUKE!" she yells, flailing as she runs up to him.

 _How is she so energetic?_ he thinks fondly. Without even thinking about it, one of his few, truly genuine smile breaks out across his face. "Hey!" he calls, grabbing her in a headlock. His sword is now sheathed safely in its scabbard. He ruffles her hair. "How's my favorite braniac?"

"Ack! Luke! Stahppit!" she complains, but he knows that she really doesn't mind. She flails, thwacking him on random places. "I've just finished reading the first chapter of Homer's _Odyssey_! In _Ancient Greek_!"

"You never cease to amaze me, Annie." Luke pats her on the head, and she blushes.

 **iv.**

It's after her first monster kill in Capture-the-Flag she approaches him.

At first he can't recognize her- she's clad in bronze armor, standing tall like a true war commander. Her face is covered by the Greek war helmet, her blue plume trailing behind her.

He pauses in sharpening his sword, Backbiter, which was recently acquired, against the whetstone. He sits on a rock by the peaceful creek, his helmet forlornly placed on another river rock next to him.

She pulls off her helmet, and he does a double-take.

Her expression is severe, stormy and dark. Her hair is a total mess, and blood stains her pale face.

"Annabeth-" he drops Backbiter and splashes across the creek to her aid. She stands still, quiet and compliant, as he brushes hair away from her face. "Are you hurt?!" he demands.

"I'm fine," she says quietly, her voice uncharacteristically soft. "I just had a run-in with one of the monsters in the woods… Chiron didn't know it was placed there, and I was alone."

Immediately, Luke feels the familiar sting of self-hatred. "I should've been there-"

"It's fine." She looks upwards, and pins him with her intense, stormy gaze that he's come to find beautiful and loves. "I want you to make me a promise."

He furrows his brow, running a hair through his cropped sandy hair. It hurts to make some expressions because of the new scar he sports from his latest failure of a quest for the golden apples of the Hesperides. "Anything, Annie."

"I want to be remembered as who I was and what I once was, rather than a washed out imitation." Her eyes shine with determination.

He nods, and hugs her. She sighs and leans into his embrace, the armor making it awkward nonetheless.

"Yeah. I promise."

 **v.**

He knows he's going to die. He's already on his deathbed- laying next to the hearth in the heart of Mount Olympus.

Annabeth's dagger is buried deep in his flesh, and with every straining breath he can feel the excruciating and incapacitating pain lancing through his failing body. HIs gaze blurs out of in and out of focus, but he can't help but turn his head to gaze at Annabeth.

Blood trickles out of his mouth, and she cries even harder. She's bloodied and hurt, and the hatred he feels for himself greatly outweighs the physical pain he's experiencing.

 _So much for a promise,_ he thinks bitterly to himself. He can feel his soul leaving his body, just thinly attached by a filament.

"You-you'll go to Elysium, you know," Annabeth cries, holding his hand. She brushes her finger over his callused knuckles and palms.

"Think… rebirth," he wheezes. He imagines himself like a skeleton, with clacking bones and in the end, all that will be left are his bones. "Try for three times… Isle of the Blest." He feels fainter.

She laughs a watery gurgle, of a woeful acceptance. "You've always pushed yourself too hard."

And so he knows his time is almost up. He almost forgets Percy is there, too. So he needs to clear on last regret.

"Annabeth… did you ever…?" His eyes must've said it all, because she replies with a sad shake of her head.

"I loved you like a brother."

But he doesn't miss the way she glances at Percy, and the way he looks at her with unconditional compassion. And so Lukes knows that he has many regrets and many mistakes he'd like to rectify, but this will not be one of the. He knows that Percy will take care of her, and Percy is good to her, and Percy will be right for her.

So as he slips into the void (it's almost like falling asleep after a long day at camp), he locks eyes with Percy Jackson.

' _Take care of her… and I give you my blessing.'_

It's a sort of silent code that the boys can only interpret.

Percy's steady, seafoam-green gaze replies.

' _I know. I will.'_

And so when Luke fades into the black, he fades in peace. The sounds of Annabeth's hysterical sobbing becomes nothing but white noise, and Percy's consolations dissipate like the early-morning mist.

But he knows he's made a choice he won't regret. At least he did one good thing when he was alive, was his last thought.

XXXX

 **a/n: yes well im sorry for this unnecessary angst**

 **kill me if you will**

 **anyway**

 **so i felt like this needed to be written**

 **because i mean i feel a lot of people dont really give luke the understanding and pity he deserves**

 **OKAY BYE**


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